


Angel of What Matters Most

by fanforfanatic



Series: Destiel Drabbles [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Little Shit, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: Dean has etymology questions and Cas is not amused.





	Angel of What Matters Most

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks.

“Yes, Dean?”

“The seven day calendar can be traced back to the ancient Babylonians right?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean hums and rocks on the hind legs of his chair a little, feet propped on the library table and an open book on his chest but he’d given up reading a while back. Cas on the other hand, had not. The angel is hunched over a scroll, a pen in hand as he transcribes and translates the dead language. He’d been at it for hours.

“Hey, Cas?”

Cas lets out an annoyed huff but when a full minute ticks by and all Dean does is stare, Cas gives in and says, “Yes, Dean?”

“You were born- er made… You were made before them, right? The ancient Babylonians, I mean.”

Cas sighs. The word he’s at in the scroll can have many meanings and he isn’t sure how to get that across in English. “Yes, Dean. I was created hundreds of millennia before the Babylonian Dynasty came to be.”

“See I thought so.” Dean quips and all but snaps his fingers in success.

“Astute as ever, Dean.” Cas deadpans, getting a laugh out of Dean. Cas keeps his head bowed so Dean doesn’t see the small smile his laughter elicits from him.

“Alright smart mouth. You think you’re so clever? Tell me then, if the seven day calendar was created after you how come you’re called the Angel of Thursday?”

Cas looks up and opens his mouth to speak prematurely then closes it again.

“There was no Thursday, that’s why it doesn’t make sen-”

“I understand why it doesn’t work, Dean.” Cas snaps.

Dean’s eyes widen and he shifts so his feet as well as all four legs of the chair are planted in the ground again. “You don’t know, do you?” Dean pulls the biggest shit eating grin the inside of the bunker has ever seen. “You don’t know!” He laughs.

“Yeah, well… What does  _ your  _ name mean, Dean?”

Dean clears his throat and resituates himself. “I was named after my grandmother if you must know.”

“That’s stupid,” Is Cas’ best retaliation but it falls on deaf ears because Dean is laughing again.

A few minutes later, Dean nods to Cas’ work and says, “You know, you probably should be typing that.”

Cas mumbles something Dean doesn’t hear but he laughs anyway.

That night in bed, Dean whispers into the dark. 

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You can be the angel of me... or something... If you want. You’ve been chirping in my damn ear long enough.” Dean feels silly, he isn’t making a whole lot of sense.

Cas must get it though because he tightens his arm where it lays across Dean’s midsection and says, “I’m yours, Dean,” 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/) :)


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